In The Middle Of The Night
by lightshine32
Summary: An old, very short oneshot story of what happened after the events of the Unwound Future. Information is inaccurate.


**Author's Note**

Hey, everyone. This is my first real fanfiction, done in October of 2009. I know I'm not a very good writer, but hope to improve. This was done, obviously, before Professor Layton and the Unwound Future was released, so some information is inaccurate (especially the whole Luke living with Layton thing), but there are still spoilers for the game, so please be wary. Thanks; your reviews count a lot!**  
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Luke snapped open his eyes, gasping for breath. Beads of sweat lined his eyebrows and his head was pounding. His eyes slowly made out the features of his room: the small wooden desk, his violin propped up neatly on the stand, and the round lamp standing on the night-table. He felt around for Mr. Bear, and, once finding him, squished the stuffed animal into a hug.

_It couldn't have been a dream,_ the boy thought. _It was so... real._

He could hardly think; his head hurt so much, he was feeling nauseous. Perhaps he was catching a cold. Should he tell the Professor? The boy glanced at his alarm clock. Squinting, Luke could make out 3:17 a.m.

Three a.m.? Maybe he shouldn't tell the Professor after all. It would be terribly rude to wake him up in the middle of the night. But he couldn't bear the pounding in his head. _Maybe..._ his mind persisted, _maybe I'll just get a drink of water instead. Perhaps that would help with my nausea._

Slowly, steadily, he got out of bed. Luke felt strange; dizzy. The world twisted and turned around him as he crept to the bathroom. He hardly breathed when he passed the professor's room, but was surprised when he saw Layton out of his bed.

A single light shone dimly from a lamp carefully placed on Professor Layton's desk. Sitting on the chair, pulled close to the desk, was the Professor himself. His head was down and his arms were folded in front of him. Even through the dim light, Luke could see his shoulders heaving up and down, and hear the soft sobbing that pierced the silence. What the small boy had not noticed was the small light-red envelope in his hand.

The professor..._crying?_ Everything had suddenly become so strange... was he still dreaming? _But the professor _never_ cries!_ Truth be told, the boy had never seen Professor Layton cry before... that is, until last night, when that strange lady had left him. In fact, he vividly remembered the Professor taking his top hat off and looking up into the sky, tears streaming down his face.

Ah! How could Luke have been so dense? Professor Layton _loved_ that girl, and so when she left... Luke turned towards the sobbing Layton.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea rushed through the boy. He let out a soft moan, but, unfortunately, not soft enough. Luke could see the Professor's muscles tense. The crying stopped, and the room swiftly filled with an uncomfortable silence.

Professor Layton's head turned towards the doorway. Luke's heart was beating its way out of his body. He wanted to move so desperately; to run away; but he couldn't. He started trembling and stared at the Professor wide-eyed, the silence slowly suffocating his thoughts.

The professor got up from his seat and turned, his back facing Luke. They boy couldn't take it anymore. Nobody moved at all... time stood still. But Luke's heart was racing, muscles frozen like a frightened rabbit.

Then... a voice. Layton's voice; so soft you could barely make out the words. "Luke..." it said. "I'm so sorry you had to see me like this." Luke heard the rustle of a handkerchief being pulled out. Then, slowly, the Professor turned towards the boy. His eyes were red from crying. In that same soft voice, he said, "Now go back to bed. School's tomorrow."

"But Professor... why were you crying?"

"Just go!" The harshness in the Professor's voice surprised Luke, but, based on how his voice broke at the end, the boy assumed that he was just... sad. The professor got into his bed as Luke walked out of the door.

Luke didn't care anymore about his drink of water, or his headache. All his thoughts swirled around fiercely in his head like a tornado, making him more nauseous, but, soon after he got into bed, he was sound asleep, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

Professor Layton watched from the doorway. He instantly regretted yelling at the boy, but... perhaps he would feel better tomorrow... both of them, in fact.

"Goodnight, Luke", he whispered, and closed the door softly behind him.


End file.
